


One Night in Bangkok

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alfred's luscious hair, Batdad, Crack, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Magical Accidents, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:23:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: Waking up twenty years younger isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.(AKA, my take on the deaged-batfam trope. Featuring magic lemonade, Alfred’s full head of hair, bootylicious eighteen year-old Clark, and adorable bat-toddlers)





	One Night in Bangkok

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gosh, there's a lot of people to thank for this one. Batwayneman, musicalgirl4474, BatShitCrazy, audreycritter, thank you all. I'm so sorry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Holy  _shit_."

Bruce frowned, turning away from the noise. He pulled the pillow further over his head, clinging to sleep. His dream began to dissipate, the fogginess of sleep lifting.

"Bruce."

"Nggh."

" _Bruce_ ," Clark's voice came from somewhere to his left, "Wake  _up_."

He rolled away, taking his pillow with him. Usually, a good jab in the shins was enough to discourage his husband from further morning interaction. He kicked backwards, surprised when his heel missed completely.

_He must have moved._

"Bruce,  _wake up_." Clark was beginning to sound panicked. A hand shook his shoulder. "I think there's a--"

A baby's cry echoed down the hallway, filling the sudden silence. Clark swore under his breath. Bruce finally gave in, pushing himself up from the pillow.

"Clark--"

His husband was perched on the side of the bed, naked, save for the sheet around his waist. Bruce blinked, dumbfounded. The other man didn't look a day past eighteen.

"Holy shit," Clark repeated, eyes widening, "Bruce, what the  _fuck_."

Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face, willing the image to go away. When he opened his eyes, teenaged-Clark was still there. He groaned.

"Get out of my bed."

"Bruce, I--" Clark frowned, biting an impossibly pink lip. "What?"

"You're making me feel dirty. I can't have a teenager in my bed."

"Um. Bruce," Clark said, "I really don't think you're--"

The baby's cry began again, cutting him off. Both of their heads snapped towards the door.

_A baby…?_

He turned back to his husband, mulling this development over. Clark was still staring at him like he'd seen a ghost, eyes wide.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"You know what--" eighteen year-old Clark looked even more adorable when frustrated, which really wasn't where his mind should have been going. "Just go look in the mirror."

"I'm not getting out of bed."

Clark crossed his arms. "You are if there's jailbait still in it."

_Good point._

Bruce stood, untangling himself from the sheet. He stumbled towards the ensuite, rubbing his jaw. He opened the vanity, yawning.

His teenaged face stared back from the mirror. He blinked, half-convinced he was still dreaming.  _What the hell..._

The lines in his face had completely disappeared, as had the grey at his temples. The scar across his collarbone was gone, along with the acid burn across his pec. A thin line across his ribs was the only defining mark, putting him at about...nineteen? Almost twenty? A year into Ra's tutelage, at least.

"That's...interesting."

Clark was watching him from the bed.

"God, you were jacked even at twenty."

Bruce looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "That's really all you have to contribute?"

"Did I just say that out loud?" Clark licked his lips, eyes drifting below his waist, "Definitely just said that out loud."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, hesitating. It took less than a second for the pieces to fall together in his mind. He groaned.

"Please tell me you didn't leave that packet I got from Zatanna yesterday sitting out."

"The packet? No, I put it on the…" Clark trailed off, eyes widening. "I...oh no. Oh  _no_."

In the hallway, a pair of footsteps skittered across the carpet. Bruce heard a familiar peal of laughter, high-pitched and delighted--a laugh he hadn't heard in almost two decades.

He stood, making a beeline for the dresser.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for pants," Bruce threw a shirt at his head. Clark caught it without looking. "Come on. We have to check on the rest of them."

* * *

They emerged from the master bedroom a few minutes later. Bruce had salvaged a pair of skinny jeans and a ratty Batman t-shirt, managing to pull off a halfway-convincing outfit.

Clark was in one of Bruce's old t-shirts, still deliciously tight around his arms. He'd combed his hair back, only for it to fall forward a half-second later. With a pair of blue jeans, he looked Kansan to the bone.

They carefully stepped past the dozen toys littering the hallway, making their way towards the stairs. Bruce listened for crying, growing concerned when he heard none. The Manor had gone silent; never a good sign.

To his left, Clark was frowning. He tilted his head, listening.

"What is it?"

"I think he-- _Bruce_!"

Bruce looked up just in time to see eight year-old Dick Grayson leap off the chandelier, grinning madly.

" _Broose_!"

He threw himself forward, hands outstretched. Dick landed in his arms with practiced skill, letting out a delighted laugh as Bruce swung him around.

"You're  _awake_!"

Bruce turned back to Clark. They both stared at Dick for a moment, dumbfounded.

"...Hey, chum," Bruce said casually, "Where's, uh, Alfred?"

"Downstairs. I heard him making breakfast," Dick jumped out of his arms, somersaulting onto the carpet. He finally noticed Clark, his smile turning to an impressive pout. "Who's that?"

"This is...Clark," Bruce said, jerking his head at his husband in a  _come here_ motion, "Say hi."

"Hi Mister Clark," Dick said, a hint of shyness in his tone. He inched closer to Bruce's leg. "Are you friends with Bruce?"

"I...yep," Clark squatted until he was Dick's level, offering his hand to the child. "It's nice to meet you, Dick."

"Yeah, okay," Dick shook quickly, turning to Bruce. "Can we go have breakfast? I think Alfred's making pancakes. He must have the tv on downstairs, 'cause I keep hearing some baby or something. It's really  _loud,_ Bruce."

Bruce cleared his throat.

"Sure, chum."

* * *

Alfred was at the sink when they entered the kitchen, scrubbing last night's dishes. From behind, he had a suspiciously full head of hair, something Bruce only had vague childhood memories of.

"Alfred?"

"Master Wayne," the butler said, turning to greet them,"I was just about to--dear lord."

"Hello Alfred," Bruce said calmly, shooing Clark and Dick in. He sent the older man a  _look_. "Dick told me you were making pancakes."

_Don't say anything. Act normal._

"Of course," Alfred said. His was face a good fifteen years younger--still lined, but not excessively so. Still familiar. "I….set Master Damian in the parlor. Master Tim and Jason are watching television."

"Right. Watching television." Bruce said convincingly. He patted Dick's shoulder. "You stay in here with Alfred, okay? Help him with the chocolate chips."

"Uh, nobody likes those except for you," Dick said, hopping onto the counter, "I like sprinkles."

"Then sprinkles it is," Alfred said. The butler pushed a lock of blond hair out of his face, looking delighted by the motion. "Would you like to choose the color?"

Bruce yanked Clark out of the kitchen by his sleeve, dragging him towards the front of the Manor. Their slightly decreased heights made the motion clumsy. Clark nearly tripped them both, grabbing his shoulder before they could crash into the wall of the hallway.

"He  _did_ say the parlor, right?" Bruce said, eyeing the room. "I don't…"

He drew up short at the sight of a long-abandoned baby playpen, sitting next to the windows. A diaper bag was a few feet away, a bottle sticking out of one pocket.

"Fuck  _me_."

Clark flushed, turning away. Bruce ignored him, already moving towards the playpen. He leaned over the edge, mildly concerned at what he would find inside.

Damian's features were unmistakable, even in a baby's face. He had a pacifier clenched between his gums, chewing on it like he had something against nookies everywhere. Wide eyes watched the room, suspicious.

_Yeah, that's definitely Damian._

Bruce reached into the playpen, hesitant. He pulled the baby out, cradling him in one arm. Clark leaned over his shoulder, breath hot against his cheek.

"Is that...Damian?"

Baby Damian watched the Kryptonian with narrowed eyes, spitting out the pacifier. Bruce snorted, grabbing the piece of plastic before it could hit the floor.

Clark only looked mildly offended.

"Let's go find Tim and Jason," he suggested, "You can carry him with us."

* * *

Tim and Jason were seated in front of the television, a good ten feet apart, separated by a singular couch cushion. Titus watched from his dog bed in the corner, keeping a lazy eye on the two boys.

Jason looked up briefly from a pile of toys as they walked in. Bruce felt his heart ache as he spotted chubby cheeks, framed by dark curls his adult self must have grown out of. He couldn't have been more than five, maybe six.

"...Jason?"

"What." the boy said quietly, not looking up from his car. He pushed it onto the track, slamming it into the LEGO wall without hesitation.

Bruce knelt, marvelling at the way his knees didn't click. "How's it, uh, going?"

"Good." Jason shoved the car through the wall, taking out a chunk of the blocks. He glanced at Damian, still in Bruce's arms. "What's that."

"I...this is Damian. Your brother."

"I don't have a brother."

Bruce really couldn't argue with that logic. "Okay. Are you playing nicely with Tim?"

Across the room, Clark was hunched over the boy, frowning. Tim was curled up on one of the couch cushions, snoring softly. A juice carton was clenched in one pudgy hand.

"He keeps sleeping," Jason muttered, not looking up, "He doesn't wanna play trains either."

"I'll play trains with you," Bruce offered, reaching for one of the cabooses. "Here--"

Jason smacked his hand away. " _No_. I wanna play with Tim."

"Okay." Bruce ruffled the boy's hair, pushing himself to his feet. "You keep playing, champ. Alfred will have breakfast soon."

Jason ignored him, already rebuilding one of the LEGO walls. He pursed his lips, choosing a red block as he began on a window.

Bruce shook his head, adjusting Damian in his arms. Across the room, Clark had removed the juice box from the Tim's hand, setting it down on the floor.

"He won't wake up," the other man said, looking concerned. "His heartbeat and breathing are fine, though. Should we try to wake him?"

Bruce handed him Damian, who looked vaguely betrayed by this turn of events. Clark took him gingerly, looking miles out of his depth.

"Tim. Hey, Tim, buddy," Bruce shook the boy's shoulder lightly, "Wake up."

Bleary eyes opened, focusing on him slowly. Tim frowned, nearly hidden by his bangs. Even this young, he had the beginning of dark circles around his eyes.

"...Bruce?"

"Hey sport," the billionaire smiled, relieved. "You tired?"

"Yeahh."

"Okay. Go back to sleep."

Tim didn't reply, eyes already closing. He curled up on the cushion, letting out a soft snore. Bruce couldn't hold back the smile, gazing down at the toddler.

_Poor kid's exhausted at any age._

"What's next?" Clark asked, handing him Damian. Bruce took the baby, setting him on his hip. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but I don't think either of us can go to work."

"Zatanna," Bruce muttered, glancing at his watch. "That powder she gave me yesterday was supposed to go to Constantine. Some sort of spell."

Clark cringed. "Sorry about that again."

"Uh huh. So, we track down the packet. Then we go talk to Zatanna." Bruce bounced Damian up and down, getting a reluctant giggle. "Think we can find a baby carrier somewhere?"

* * *

"That packet on the counter?" Alfred stirred the batter, frowning. Dick leaned over to pour sprinkles in, avoiding his elbow. "It looked like sugar. I'm afraid I might have put it in the lemonade yesterday."

"Why would you--" Bruce cut off, breathing deeply. "Alfred, it could have been  _cocaine,_ or something."

"Wouldn't have been the first time," the butler said under his breath, placing the batter on the counter. "Is that the cause of all of this? My lemonade?"

Dick closed the sprinkles container, glancing at Bruce. "I drank a  _lot_ of lemonade yesterday."

"Yep," Bruce said, "Alfred?"

"I had a glass or two, yes."

"Is there any leftover?"

Alfred nodded at the fridge. "About half a jug."

"Great," Bruce handed him Damian, who flashed the butler a toothless smile. "We need to go find Zatanna, and see how long this is going to last."

"It's not permanent?" Alfred asked mournfully, putting a hand to his hair. "Asking for a friend, of course."

"We're leaving," Bruce told Clark, mildly disturbed by that thought. "Bye, Alfred. We'll be back soon."

The butler turned back to the stove, rocking Damian.

"Pity."

* * *

"I'm sorry, kid, but company policy says I can't let you--"

"For the  _last_ time _,_ " Bruce said, cutting him off with a wave, "We're eighteen. Just let us in already."

The bouncer crossed his arms, frowning. "You look younger."

"We're definitely not."

"I told you, I'm gonna need to see some I.D."

Clark grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him back. He put his mouth to Bruce's ear, whispering.

"Just  _bribe_  him already."

"I've never been turned away from a strip club in my  _life_ ," Bruce huffed, digging in his wallet. He pulled out a handful of bills, eyeing the bouncer. "My  _life,_ Clark."

"Just give him the money already."

" _Wow_ , looks like we forgot our IDs at home." Bruce said loudly, folding the bills in his hand. He batted his eyes at the bouncer. "Will this work?"

"Whatever," the bouncer said, rolling his eyes. He shoved the money in his pocket, cracking the door open. "Don't get lost in there, kiddos."

Clark had to physically hold Bruce back, dragging him through the entrance. His arms were like iron around his chest. He couldn't move if he wanted to. The thought sent a strange thrill through him.

"Cool it, okay? We're inside," Clark murmured in his ear, letting him go, "Jeez, you were angrier than Damian at this age,"

Bruce ignored that comment. He scanned the room, blinking as the disco ball reflected into his eyes. "You see her?"

"I--"

"Holy teenagers, Batman," a voice said behind them. " _Wowzah_."

Bruce turned, already gritting his teeth. The music and lights roared to life on stage, momentarily startling him. When he could see again, Zatanna stood behind them, a hand on one hip.

"Someone got into my packet," she whistled, giving him a once over. "Damn. You two look barely legal."

Bruce crossed his arms, daring her to continue. "How  _long,_ Zee?"

"How long  _what_ , sweetcheeks?" Zatanna smiled, poking at him with her wand. "Until this little miracle wears off? A day, maybe two. Sorry to say."

" _Zee--_ "

"Thems the rules," she said, pouting. "I wouldn't mess with it, unless you wanna spend the next few years this way. Or  _worse,_ you get some freaky Benjamin Button thing going.  _Euch._ "

"Great."

Clark swore under his breath, looking away. Bruce watched him, concerned. "What are we going to do now?"

Zatanna's smile was evil. "I'm sure you two can...figure something out."

"Very funny."

"Just my suggestion." She winked at Bruce, "My set's up next. Gotta skedaddle. Good luck with those hormones."

Bruce watched her go, fists clenched. At his side, Clark was looking away again, a flush creeping up his neck.

"What's wrong?"

The Kryptonian blinked. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," Bruce grabbed his elbow, dragging him to a darkened corner. "Something's bothering you."

Clark muttered something under his breath, and  _Jesus,_ teenaged-Clark must have loved swearing, because he seemed mighty comfortable now. "Let go of my arm."

"No," Bruce said, pushing him up against the wall. He leaned in, concerned. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't."

"Yes, you big blue idiot, of course you can."

Clark looked away. Bruce grabbed his jaw, irritated. Wide eyes caught his, startled.

" _Bruce--_ "

He pushed their mouths together, his grip on Clark's jaw tightening. The other man kissed him hungrily, fisting a hand in his shirt. The kiss grew, sending a thrill down his spine.

Bruce grabbed Clark by his collar, shoving him against the wall. He bit at the other man's throat, forcing a delicious moan out of his husband. They ground against each other, close to incoherent.

Bruce slipped a leg between Clark's knees. The other man caught on quickly, spreading his legs eagerly. He trailed a hand down the other man's hips, teasing at his waistband. Clark shuddered against him, struggling to keep quiet.

" _Bruce_."

"You like that?" he whispered, delighting at the hot skin under his hands. He hadn't felt this heated in years, this  _needy._ They both hadn't. "I--"

He cut off as both of their phones began to ring. Clark let out a shaky breath, deflating against him.

"It's the League signal," he said, a hint of his older-self leaking into his tone. "We gotta--"

Bruce stepped backwards, putting some space between them. Clark watched him with wide eyes, pupils still dilated. He grabbed his phone, hitting the answer button with a growl.

"I'm busy, Diana."

"Get to the Watchtower as soon as possible," the Amazon said in his ear, "We have a situation. I'm calling an emergency meeting."

The line went dead. He turned back to his husband, raising an eyebrow.

"Looks like we're headed to space."

Clark groaned, covering his face.

" _Great_."

* * *

"This shirt doesn't look right," Clark whined, stepping out of the zeta tube. He pulled at the collar, screwing his face into a pout. "Why can't I wear the suit?"

"Doesn't fit," Bruce said, pushing Dick's borrowed domino mask into place. He blinked, missing the weight of his cowl already. "You'd look ridiculous."

"We already look ridiculous."

"Diana said it was an emergency," Bruce nodded towards the Founders' Hall, "At least we're here."

Clark snorted, keeping pace beside him.

"You look like Dick with that mask on."

Bruce visibly shuddered. "Dear God."

"It's kinda creepy."

"Never repeat that in my presence again."

They turned the corner. The Hall doors were open, waiting. Bruce traded one last look with Clark before they crossed the threshold, steeling himself.

Diana looked up at their entrance. She was seated next to their assigned chairs, the rest of the League already assembled down the table.

"Superboy," Flash said, staring at Clark, "What are you doing here?"

Clark paused, looking around in confusion. Bruce elbowed him.

"Ah, I. Um, Superman, he, uh, sent me in his place."

" _Nice,_ " Bruce hissed sarcastically, getting a vicious glare in return. "Definitely believable."

"O...kay," Hal Jordan said, "Doesn't really sound like Supes, but alright. And you brought, uh, Nightwing, with you?"

The whole room looked to Bruce, who rolled his eyes under the mask.

"Yes," Clark said, before Bruce could speak, "Batman is also...occupied."

"Yeah, I bet they're occupied," Hal muttered, getting a snort from Ollie. "Not like we're about to fight a war or anything."

Arthur looked away, a smirk curling his lips. Bruce clenched his fists, getting a warning glare from Clark as laughter filled the room.

Diana was staring at them strangely, a hand thumbing at her lasso. She gestured for them to sit, opening the meeting.

"We've received emergency transmissions from a nearby galaxy," the Amazonian said, fumbling slightly with the display screen. A diagram Bruce had put together a few weeks ago popped up, labelled with the galaxy's location. "Their dispute with a local star system has devolved into declarations of war. They face complete destruction, should the star system move forward with preparations."

Barry leaned forward, folding his hands under his chin. "And there's no way to contact them? Negotiate the dispute?"

Diana shook her head. "No. None I could find, without Batman's help."

"It's possible," Bruce said, before he could stop himself, "We've had negotiations with their sister star before. Contact them, and work out a reciprocal agreement under the previous terms."

The room went silent. Diana stared at him, eyes narrowed. Hal and Ollie traded amused looks, while Barry simply looked confused. To his right, Arthur was smirking into his lap.

"I mean…" Bruce trailed off, "That's what I remember about the last time this happened."

"Great," Hal said, waving at him. "Does what Batboy over here sound about right?"

Clark grabbed his wrist and squeezed  _hard,_ his grip the only thing keeping him from leaping across the table and tackling Jordan. Diana nodded slowly, looking to Arthur.

"I do remember negotiating that treaty with Superman," she said, "It was dangerous, but fruitful. The sister star has been peaceful ever since."

"Except for the revolt last summer in the northern province," Clark said, frowning. Bruce sent him a betrayed look. "Which...I remember hearing about. A lot. Wow, is Superman focused on intergalactic disputes, or what?"

Nobody laughed. Bruce looked at the ceiling, praying for the end.

"I move to call a vote," Diana said, "All in favor of the preliminary course of action?"

Oliver raised a hand.

"No offense, but are we sure these two should be voting?"

"Yeah, no offense, but I'd rather hear from Batman and Superman themselves," Hal said, crossing his arms. He leaned back in his seat. "They can zeta up for a quick meeting, can't they?"

"Batman and Superman would agree with our positions," Bruce said, between clenched teeth. "I'm very certain."

"I'm kind of worried they're not here, not gonna lie," Barry said, sending them an apologetic glance. "Sorry, guys. Could we maybe call them, or something? Video conference?"

Diana took this into consideration. "Arthur?"

"I agree, it might be better to wait."

Clark rolled his eyes, looking at Bruce. "Are you going to tell them, or should I?"

"Do you really want me to?"

"Not really."

Clark pushed back from his seat, standing. He pulled Bruce's domino mask off his face, throwing it onto the table.

"Look. It's us," he waved at Bruce, "Long story, but there was some magic involved. It should wear off in a couple hours. We both vote yes on the reciprocal agreement, by the way."

Hal's mouth jaw dropped. Barry and Ollie stared at them, wide-eyed. Arthur snorted. Diana simply looked confused.

"...Clark?" Barry asked, squinting at the Kryptonian. "It's really you?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit," Hal blurted out, pointing at Bruce, "Batman was  _hot_."

Oliver smacked him, but the damage had been done.

" _Hal_."

" _What_? I'm just stating the obvious!"

Arthur's chuckles grew louder. Bruce bit his tongue, half a second from going for Jordan's smarmy throat. Clark's furious glare drew him short.

" _Jordan._ "

The pilot paled, freezing in his seat.

"Sorry."

"Bruce," Diana interrupted, segueing smoothly, "Any comments on the agreement?"

"Send Jordan to negotiate," the billionaire suggested, joining Clark by the door, "Maybe they'll shoot him this time."

" _Hey_."

Barry let out a snort, looking away before Hal could catch him laughing. Oliver socked the pilot on the arm.

"Thanks for volunteering, bro."

"Diana," Clark nodded at the Amazonian, grabbing Bruce's elbow before bloodshed could occur, "We'll see you later."

She waved them off, a grin hinting at her lips. Hal turned to Barry, a horrified expression on his face.

"I'm terrified, but I'm also kinda turned on, not gonna lie."

Barry scooted his chair back, sending him a grossed out look.

" _Hal_."

* * *

Bruce stepped out of the zeta tube, relieved when his feet hit the Cave's floor. A cry from the balcony above barely startled him. He stuck his hands out, waiting.

Clark snorted as Dick tumbled into his arms, standing back to give them room. Bruce grunted as the eight year-old slammed into him, bending his knees to absorb the shock.

"You're back!" Dick cried, looking up at him, "I missed you!"

"We missed you too," Bruce said, letting him go with a soft smile. The boy jumped down. "What's Alfred up to?"

"He's in the bathroom," Dick shrugged, disinterested. "Hey, Mister Clark, do you wanna play leapfrog?"

Clark's grin was blinding. "Outside?"

" _Duh_."

"You're on."

They took off for the stairs, Clark sending Bruce a quick smile. In a flash, they were both gone.

Bruce shook his head, making his way to the elevator.

* * *

"Alfred, we're ho--what the  _hell_."

Alfred dropped the comb, turning away from the mirror. The butler was nearly unrecognizable under dark blonde curls. There wasn't a wrinkle in sight on his face.

Across the counter, Jason's old hair gel bottles were open, obviously in use. A half-finished glass of lemonade sat near the window.

" _Alfred."_ Bruce said, horrified, "You didn't."

"I'm afraid so, Master Wayne," Alfred said, sending him a mischievous grin. "You  _did_ say it was temporary."

" _Alfred_."

"You're only young once, Master Wayne," Alfred turned back to the mirror, picking up the comb. "Do you have any hairspray? I think I might be taking the night off."

Bruce smacked his head against the doorjamb, wincing. "You know how badly experimenting with magic can go."

"Spoken like a man without a receding hairline," the butler replied, setting the comb down. He turned, smiling at Bruce. "I'm fairly serious about going out tonight."

"I am...very aware of that."

"Good," Alfred said, "Then you'll let me borrow a shirt, won't you?"

* * *

Baby Damian was seated in his high chair in the kitchen, nibbling on pieces of jicama. Clark was watching him from the corner, entertaining Dick with a bag of marbles.

Jason and Tim were strapped to booster seats at the table, a plate of food in front of either of them.

"Dinner time," Bruce told Damian, who eyed him skeptically. "Gotta eat it all, buddy."

"I don't  _like_ jicama," Tim whined from the table, "I don't like vegetables."

Jason frowned, pushing his meatloaf around with a fork. "It's a starch, idiot."

"Hey, no name calling," Clark said, "We talked about this, Jason."

"Yeah," Jason said, dubious. "Whatever."

Tim yawned, raising his arms.

"Can I be finished?"

"Eat your jicama."

"I want  _coffee_."

Bruce stared at him, dumbfounded. Across the room, Clark snorted.

"No, you may not have coffee," he told the toddler, "Absolutely not."

"But  _dad--_ "

"I mean," Clark tilted his head, glancing at the coffee maker, " _Technically_ it's not really bad for him--"

" _No_."

"Okay, okay, just saying."

* * *

Damian went to bed surprisingly well, which Bruce wouldn't have predicted. Tim and Jason were far less agreeable, pushing 'bedtime' back a few hours. At one point, Clark super-speeded them into their pajamas, then straight into bed, leaving little room for argument.

The stunned looks on their little faces sent Bruce out of the room, bright red from laughing. They went to bed fairly soon after that, snoring softly in their too-large beds.

Dick was last, and, as always, the most amenable. He let Clark tuck into bed, insistent that they both listened while he read a bedtime story.

Bruce grinned as they finally left Dick's room, listening to the snores echoing down the hall. They passed Alfred in the stairwell, who seemed to have located a mauve v-neck from Bruce's closet.

Clark did a double take as the butler passed them.

"You know what," he shook his head, "I just decided, I really don't want to know."

"Probably for the best."

They walked back to their room slowly, hand in hand. Bruce could hear Clark's breathing speed up, a thrill going through him.

On an impulse, he pushed the other man against the wall, kissing him until they were both breathless. Clark moaned as he pulled away, irritated.

"How long--" the other man trailed off as Bruce's bit behind his ear, sagging against him, "--how long do you think we have until this wears off?"

Shifting their weight, he kicked open the bedroom door, tugging Clark in after him.

"Definitely enough."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought! :)


End file.
